


When The Lights Turn Low

by ettasig



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Human, Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-12-02
Packaged: 2019-07-20 15:18:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,314
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16139969
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ettasig/pseuds/ettasig
Summary: It’s a weird relationship they have. He’s torn between liking what they have and desperately wanting more.





	1. You Know Where To Find Me When The Lights Turn Low

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by Mac Ayres' "Show Me".

He’ll never understand why Lydia decided to have her engagement party in one of the most expensive ballroom of all places. It was a three hour drive from his apartment and the Californian traffic was beyond frustrating. It was just too much effort for Stiles to put in. Sure, the venue was pretty nice with crystal trimmed chandeliers in every corner, and accented with floor to ceiling windows draped with luxurious fabric and family, friends and colleagues in groups dressed up and socialising with gold rimmed cocktails in their hands.

But this was Lydia and Jordan’s _engagement party_. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what their wedding would be like. Maybe it’s what people like Lydia dream of. But it’s just too much for him. There’s so much wealth in this place, it’s suffocating. Thinking about the cost of it all makes him a little queasy. Thank God there’s alcohol to fix that.

“How’re you feeling Stiles?” He turns his head and sees his best friend coming to stand beside him. “This could’ve been yours.”

“Fan-freaking-tastic man,” he says, smirking “All of this? No thanks, I’m good.”

“Uh, what happened to the ten-year plan to get Lydia to fall in love with you?” Scott jokes. “You can’t have Lydia without the glitz and glam.”

He sighs, relieved. “The best thing Lydia’s ever done for me is break up with me.”

“Really?”

"Really,” he shrugs, “Could you imagine us together and lasting? Impossible dude.”

“You guys are so different,” Scott remarks.

“ _So_ different,”he repeats. “Thank _fuck_ that ten-year plan never worked out. It was so stupid.”

“So what’s the plan now?”

He shrugs and Scott laughs. He clinks bottles with his Scott before tipping his head and taking a swig of his beer.

* * *

He’s not sure what this thing is but whatever it is he likes it. He likes making her feel good and he likes feeling good himself. It definitely boosts his ego to know that somebody wants him in that kind of way because right now he’s got his hips rolling against the apex of her thighs and his name escaping her lips in a loud, breathy moan. Her fingers tangle themselves in his hair as the tips of their noses press up onto each other, her caramel eyes never leaving his as he thrusts into her. She slides a hand down his jaw, angling it, allowing her to deepen the kiss, a clash of teeth and tongues moving with one another.

She’s an amazing kisser.

They’re young and reckless and in one of the (seemingly broken) elevators of the ballroom. They just can’t get enough of each other. Who can blame them?

“Feels so good, Mal,” he says, grinding against her and feeling her shudder.

She lets out this sound from the back of her throat and nods into his shoulder. “Harder, baby.” She arches against him again, “I’ve thought about you all day.”

He groans, licking a strip up her throat before biting her pulse. “I can feel you around me.”

His fingers trail downwards and he feels how wet she is, swiping his thumb against her core. At that, she lets out another cry which makes him groans again and push her harder into the elevator wall, grinding again and again, her body shuddering in pleasure with every thrust. 

He’s almost there and he knows she is too by the way her walls clench and flutter around him, and him throbbing against her and her breath coming out in broken pants. “Come with me,” he pleads and she nods.

One more thrust and it pushes them both off the edge. “ _Stiles,_ ” she exhales, her hips snapping up against his.

This glorious, fierce woman who knows exactly what she wants and isn’t afraid to ask. He’s completely at the mercy of Malia Tate.

Her head rests on the back of the wall and in the next second she has the audacity to start laughing. It’s _such_ a turn on. He holds her tightly and kisses up the length of her neck and across her collarbones until he’s laughing too.

“You’re amazing,” she tells him, her head lulling to one side.

He smiles against her lips.

Before they know it, the elevator shudders back to life and the light twitches back on. Hastily, he pulls out of her, leaving her whimpering one last time and setting her feet back on the floor. He helps her put her dress back on before he pulls his boxers up and fastens his belt and smoothing back his hair in the elevator mirror.

He’s thankful when the doors open that there’s nobody there to see his flushed cheeks and incorrectly buttoned shirt. Malia walks out first, taking his hand and leading them to their hotel room.

Considering how much money Lydia and Jordan spent on the party, Stiles and Malia volunteered to share a room without hesitation. Lydia must’ve been too caught up to ignore that because they weren’t dating, they were friends. Really good friends in fact. They’ve seen each other naked on multiple occasions and slept with each other (in every sense of the word) on multiple occasions so sharing a room seemed like no big deal. And he enjoys her company a lot. He loves everything about her. Who wouldn’t?

But dating is out of the question. He’s busy with work at the station while she’s busy with work at the animal clinic. So their relationship leaves no room for romance but friendship and tons and tons of crazy, passionate benefits. It’s fine, it’s mutual. But he does love her and it’s frightening to think he’d literally do anything for her if she asks. But he would, in a heartbeat. She’s the reason why that ten-year plan fell through in the first place.

* * *

They’re over at each other’s place every night, except when they both work the night shift. But usually when he’s home from work, she’s already there with takeout and naked and ready for him.

He has the key to her apartment and he has hers. He trusts her wholeheartedly so there’s never been a problem. They’ve made love on every surface of the apartment but by the end of it, it’s always them lying on the couch or the bed talking about everything and anything from their biggest fears to what their favourite ice cream flavour is. She’s understanding and compassionate and an overall good person. Being around her is always fun. He feels comfortable, safe. 

 

It’s a Thursday and they’re both taking the night shift tonight. Her shift starts at eleven whilst his starts at ten so he reckons they’ll have time. It’s around noon when he knocks at her door with food at hand. 

“Hi?” she says, her eyebrow raised as she swings the door open. “What’s this?”

“Mexican, your favourite,” he says as he lifts the plastic bag.

She glances at him suspiciously before opening the door wider, allowing him to walk in.

He lays out nachos, enchiladas and quesadillas on the coffee table and turns around, grinning. “Whatever you want.”

Her eyes light up at the sight of the food and she gasps, “ _God_ , you know I love you Stilinski.”

He forces a gulp down his throat and mentally brushes the comment off. She’s told him so many times that he doesn’t even know what it means. Hell, she’s even said it to Isaac and it’s not like she’s in love with him.

She plants herself opposite to him on the couch but she can never sit on the couch properly without her legs on top of him somehow. She’s already had three quesadillas when she leans and presses a kiss on his lips. It’s gentle and sweet like she is and when she pulls away, she murmurs against his mouth, “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he tells her earnestly.

They sit there smiling at each other before she crosses her arms around herself and pulls her shirt off, revealing her bare chest.

“Wait, Malia,”he interrupts, “Can we talk first?”

She’s already seated herself on his lap, kissing along his neck and jawline and up his ear. “About?”

"What are we?” he asks bluntly, trying not to sound any bit affected by her lips on his skin.

“What do you mean?” she questions, a low mewl escaping her throat.

“I don’t know. What are we?” he repeats, unsure of what else to say.

She pulls away and slides off him, thinking. “We’re friends.”

“Like you and Isaac?”

She grimaces, “Fuck no, I don’t like him like that.”

“Then how do you like him?,” Stiles quips.

“I like him as a friend,” she assures.

“But we’re friends? How is that any different?”

“Well, we’re friends who have sex.”

“Yeah and…?”

She cocks her head and watches him curiously, “You’re not starting to… _you know_ , want—“

“No!” He forces a chuckle, “No.”

“Stiles, we’ve talked about this before…”

He gets up from the couch abruptly, leaning down to grab his keys before urging her, “Don’t worry. Forget I said anything.” He sighs, “Anyway, I have to go.”

She stares up at him worried, “Uh, okay. Thanks Stiles.”

Stiles nods and hurriedly walks out of her apartment, shutting the door before she can say anything else.

* * *

He’s on a patrol when he hears a buzz from his phone in his uniform pocket. He pulls it out and the screen lights up with a text from her.

_Hey, are we ok?_

He glares at the screen. Were they okay? He's not so sure. He's never wanted to ruin anything between the both of them. 

It’s a weird relationship they have. He’s torn between liking what they have and desperately wanting more. But he knows if he tells her, it’s game over and then they’ll never be okay again. He’s already lost her once, he can’t risk losing her again. He pushes whatever feelings he has for her down and quickly texts a message. He clicks the arrow and watches the text form a bubble on the screen for a second before shoving the phone back in his pocket. 

_Yes we are_

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

He leaves long after his night shift has ended because there were some bored college kids on their break doing donuts along the street he was patrolling. It's foolish of them to think they’d get away with it on a school night and especially in the presence of a _cop._ It's not the worst thing he's had to deal with but still. 

It’s almost three o’clock in the morning when he gets back to his apartment. He figures he’d just go for a quick shower and head to bed. Except, when he’s dressed in his pyjamas and walking out of the bathroom, he notices the door of his bedroom standing ajar. 

Quietly nudging the door open, he finds her bundled underneath the covers, sleeping soundly on her side, her back facing him. Lifting the comforter, he attempts to slide himself beside her but once the mattress dips, she stirs and turns over, facing him with tired eyes. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,”he says softly. 

“No-no. It’s fine.” Her brows furrow gently as she readjusts herself to accommodate him. “I’m sorry for being here so late,”she tells him. “I didn’t come over for sex or anything. I just…couldn’t sleep.”

He reaches out, taking her hand in his. “Hey…you’re crazy for thinking I don’t want you around. You don’t ever have to apologise for that.”

At that, he notices her lips form a slight smile. 

“Do you want to talk about it?”he offers. 

“No, I don’t want to keep you up. You’ve had a long day,”she tells him shyly, “Thank you.”

“You sure? I’m all ears.”

She nods but he can’t help but think there’s something that she’s trying to hide. He’s always prided himself for being the one that smoothed all her jagged edges in high school and that included teaching her how to verbalise how she felt instead of repressing it and taking it out on something like... school property. 

“Don’t act like I don’t want to know. I’m worried about you Mal,”he pushes gently. 

She rolls her eyes but grins at him anyway, “Fine.” Then something in her eyes shift and her face turns stern. She definitely picked that up from her dad. “I’ve just been thinking—feeling…I don’t know. Sad? Lost?”

He hums earnestly, signalling for her to keep going.

“I’ve been feeling like I have no idea what I’m doing…with myself…with my life. I don’t know what kind of person I’ll be in five years. Heck, I don’t even know where I’ll be in five months,"she sighs. "I just don’t know Stiles. And it terrifies me. And I always think about how things would be different if I just had my mom and Kylie here. I know it’s stupid but I just miss them so much.”

He offers her a reassuring smile as she lets out a sigh of relief. “It’s not stupid at all.” He pauses for a second to gather the right words to say. “Look…I don’t know where you’ll be in five years but all I know is that you’ll be okay. I know that because you’re so _so_ smart...and kind and beautiful.”

“Stiles…”she murmurs, her eyes softening. 

“And don’t forget…you’ll always have me,” he soothes before kissing her knuckle. 

She bites her lip a bit. “I won’t.” She moves closer to him, wrapping an arm over his chest and snuggling her face into the crook of his neck. “Thank you… for listening to me. For being here.”

He holds her tightly, his fingertips tracing random patterns down her arm. He breathes her scent in and presses a small kiss to her hairline. “Anytime,”he whispers, before shutting his eyes and drifting off to sleep.


End file.
